


Brenda the Good

by BoPeepWithNoSheep



Series: Brenda The Good [1]
Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast), The Adventure Zone: Balance (Podcast)
Genre: Gen, Miss Good is doing Her Best and we all love and support her, PTA Meetings, Slice of Life, Taako Lup and Barry harass Angus' teacher, Taako tries to intidimate angus' 12 foot tall teacher, and go to a kids school, let angus actually be a kid, more tags to be added because I'm bad at tagging, outside perspective of the ipre crew, parent teacher conferences
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-25
Updated: 2018-11-03
Packaged: 2019-07-17 14:08:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 12,657
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16097207
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BoPeepWithNoSheep/pseuds/BoPeepWithNoSheep
Summary: Miss Good is very excited to meet the parents of her favorite student, she just hadn't really expected there to be so many of them.





	1. Miss Good

**Author's Note:**

> big shout out to the taz discord chat for helping turn this minor joke about Barry being willing to square up at a soccer game into a three dimensional fully fledged OC

 

Brenda Good hasn’t been teaching for long. Really, she’s fresh off her fantasy student teaching and the fact that her first job is someplace as prestigious as Our Lady of Amnesty's Academy for Magically Gifted Adolescents is something to be said for her own glowing reviews from her former teachers and evaluators. She’s the first Firbolg to ever be hired at the Academy. Her parents are so terribly proud of her even if they’re also terribly nervous about her being surrounded by humans. It’s a somewhat challenging job at times, different than a normal school since most of the students are already half-competent wizards and sorcerers in their own right, but too young to be shuffled into higher education quite yet.   
  
Brenda teaches their general classes for the first half of the day before students are separated by proficiencies and schools of magic and bustled to more specialized instructors. She, of course, does her best not to play favorites with her students but there’s one little boy in particular that Brenda absolutely _adores._   
  
Little Angus McDonald is something like the gem of her classroom. He’s always kind, polite, and helpful towards her and the rest of his class. Both his grades and attendance are nearly impeccable. The only time she ever really needs to correct him in class is when he occasionally blurts out the answer to a question before she’s had a chance to finish asking it, even if he’s usually right, but he’s getting better at raising his hands.   
  
He’s always excited to be picked to read aloud during activity time. When she announced their read-aloud book series for the semester is  _ Caleb Cleveland,  _ Angus’s glee is just barely restrained as he practically vibrates in his chair. She lets him read all of Caleb’s lines when they start the first chapter and he doesn’t stop smiling for the rest of the day. Brenda’s almost certain that’s what solidifies her absolute adoration of little Angus McDonald   
  
It’s why she’s so excited for his student-teacher conference. She’d been warned ahead of time by the principal, Missus Aurix, that Angus’ guardian situation is a tad bit abnormal. Still, she’s certain that anyone with a hand in helping raise this wonderful young boy will be a delight to meet.


	2. Mister Burnsides

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Miss Good meets Mister Burnsides.

Brenda can't quite help how she towers above her classroom. Only one orcish girl is anywhere in the vicinity of proportionate to Miss Good, but even then, little Mirielle might be tall but she's still a child who only tops out at five and a half feet meanwhile as a firbolg, Brenda is nearly eleven feet tall.  A desk from one of the fantasy eight through twelve classrooms is brought for Miriella but all of Brenda’s desks and chairs must be carefully transmuted. She could shift herself smaller, but that always makes her feel as if she's trying to hide. She likes her size, but it's just not what things in humanoid dominated societies are built for.  
  
She worries a little, at first, that her size will intimidate her students. Perhaps it's the soft pink and brown tones or her fur, the green handknit sweaters she wears, or just the slow and gentle lilt of her voice, but none of her students are frightened. Some parents are a bit more… concerned about the matter.  
  
It doesn't matter how carefully she maneuvers herself through the room, or that not a single collision has occurred, or that the only feet stepped on this evening are her own. There are still numerous questions as to what precautions she'll be taking to ensure her students will be safe from her immensity.  
  
It stings, just a little when a man, enormous for a human but perhaps the size of a teenage Firbolg barrels into her while making a beeline for the snack table. His eyes widen and she expects an apology, but the first words out of his mouth instead have her cringing, her ears twitching ever so slightly in agitation.  
  
“Holy shit, you’re _huge_.”  
  
“Language, please,  Mister...McDonald?” Brenda chides quietly but firmly as her eyes drift to the little sticker that identifies which student any given adult is here for. She works very hard to relax her shoulders, make herself smaller and softer so that conflict can just slough off of her immense back. This is why she prefers humanoid children to their adult parents. In them her size and strange features inspire awe and curiosity, but in their parents, it inspires wariness and fear.  
  
The human grins sheepishly at her, which is reassuring enough that her ears perked back up. She’s glad that Angus’ guardian is kind; the little boy deserves it, “Oh no, it's Burnsides. I mean I _am_ here for Ango, but I'm like his keeper, not his dad.”  
  
Mister Burnsides makes a vague gesture over to the corner, where Angus appears to be having a very spirited discussion with Desidero Blomgren, a half-elf with wild magic, and Olivia Cruz, an aasimar. If Brenda had to guess, she thinks it’s likely about their current group project on the effects of identical spells cast from different types of base magic. Their group had chosen traditional druid magic on plants versus Pannite based clerical magic. To Brenda’s understanding, one of Angus’ uncles is actually a cleric of Pan and they planned to interview him for part of the written portion of their project.  
  
However much she quite enjoys watching her students enjoy themselves, her attention is drawn back to Mister Burnsides as he speaks. “I've never seen a firbolg in person before. Y’all are pretty scarce most of the time, I thought?”  
  
“I suppose some Firbolg are, but I quite like it outside the forests. I know that I’m the first Firbolg hired at the academy, but I hope that maybe I can help others realize that there are a lot of good my people can do,” she starts slowly, prepared to list her credentials when Mister Burnsides’ eyes widen again.

She's mid-sentence when he suddenly exclaims, “Oh shi-- _shoot_ , you're Miss G! Ango mentioned you were tall, not that you're like, actual giantkin. I guess I shoulda figured since there aren’t any mini-giants running around, but I didn’t want to assume, ya know?”  
  
He glances around the classroom, taking in the slightly raised ceilings, the sidewalk chalk sitting along with the blackboard chalk, and all of the other little touches that indicate the room is frequented by a giantkin. Finally, his eyes fall on her transmuted desk and chair tucked neatly away in the corner and Mister Burnsides frowns, “Oh man, is that where you sit all day, Miss G? Transmuted furniture has the _worst_ back support!”  
  
Brenda ducks her head a bit sheepishly. Mister Burnsides certainly isn’t wrong, but she hadn’t gotten the chance to bring any of her chairs from home yet. Perhaps he has a degree of experience with transmuted objects himself, given his size. He’s quite large for a human, even if she comparatively dwarfs him, so she imagines he might struggle as well with finding furniture fitting to his own imposing build.  
  
“Well I spend my mornings lecturing, but in the afternoons when the children attend their electives, I do have my grading and planning periods there.”  
  
“Oh fu-- _fudge_ , that sucks to suck.”  
  
Brenda blinks slowly. Mister Burnsides is certainly the most colorful of guardians she’s met this evening, and perhaps the oddest conversation she’s had. “It is a bit inconvenient, but the academy has been very accommodating of my particular needs.” Her room is an old music room, the high ceiling convenient for acoustic as well as Firbolgs as it were. It was certainly more than her student teaching jobs had provided; there she had simply had to hunch while lecturing and duck under doorways.  
  
“Huh, that’s good at least. Anyway, it was great meeting ya, Miss G. Ango already raves about you so you must be doing a good job. I’ve got a date with that cream puff tower over there so talk to ya later!”  
  
And with that the medium-to-her whirlwind of Mister Burnsides strolls past, offering two finger guns, before proceeding directly towards the refreshments. He is nice, if a bit baffling, and perhaps without a filter, but Brenda has certainly met worse guardians.

She can’t help but chuckle as she watches the human balance four plates, one in each hand and then the remaining balanced on either bicep and trots back over to Angus. One plate is carefully passed from bicep to child while the other bicep-plate, full of small quiches, is dumped directly into his mouth. She quite enjoys checking in on his antics on occasion for the rest of the guardian meet and greet; it brings a degree of levity to her prior nervousness. When the evening rounds to a close, Mister Burnsides hoists Angus up onto his shoulders and parades him out like a soldier marching home from a great battle.  
  
A week later, Brenda enters her room on Monday morning to find two beautiful mahogany chairs in her classroom. One sits behind her desk, both form and function practically divine from the first moment she sits in it. She can tell it’s _actually_ made for a person of her build. The other chair, a truly magnificent rocking chair with an adorable kelly green seat cushion sits in the reading corner. Brenda is so excited by the new furniture she nearly misses the messily written note on her desk.

  
  
_**‘Dear Miss G,**_

 

_**Thanks for taking care of Ango for us!** _

 

_**-Magnus Burnsides’** _


	3. Mister Fromteevee

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Miss Good meets Mister Fromteevee.

It had clicked after the note with the chairs, just exactly who Angus’ guardians were. This family she knows but does not _know_ , but who Angus speaks so very highly of. She doesn’t want to judge them, because she’s certain that if The Hunger had not necessitated its broadcast, they likely would have preferred not to have all of the planar systems privy to their century of private lives--She certainly wouldn’t have.

So to have Taako, one of The Twins, the most powerful transmutation wizard on all of the planar systems waltz into her classroom, mage hand the provided chair out of his way then pull her rocking chair over before sprawling across it like a Fantasy French girl is well, it’s certainly _something_.

“Hello, Brindle Goop. Not much of a rival-- _pastel sweaters_? Well, I guess you take fashion advice from the infants you teach.”

Brenda blinks owlishly, her head tilting to one side as her ears droop slightly in confusion. She’s certain her name was written on the letter home to guardians and now she worries perhaps she overlooked a typo. The comment on her sweater has her ducking her head somewhat sheepishly; she _likes_ her sweaters. They’re warm and soft and when she makes her own clothes she never has to worry about them not fitting right.

“Oh, um, Mister… Fromteevee, it’s Brenda Good, and it’s very nice to meet you. Angus speaks very highly of you.”

His elven ears perk as Mister Fromteevee practically preens at the compliment, laying a hand over his heart, “Of course he does, cha’boy is the best magic teacher he’s ever had.”

With the same dramatic flair, Mister Fromteevee kicks his feet up and out and lands squarely on her desk, angled _just_ so that she has to scramble quickly to keep her neat stack of notes from being wrinkled by his heels. Floundering slightly, Brenda forces on a small smile even as her ears droop and give her away.

“It’s always good when students have such encouragement and support at home,” she redirects, because talking about her students is easier than politely requesting that one of the saviors of her world please try not to scuff her desk. “Angus is exceptionally talented across all schools of magic. Normally we encourage students to focus on one or two schools but based on his elective grades and general enthusiasm, I believe it’s worth determining a class schedule that will allow him to branch out from his current dual-focus on Evocation and Transmutation.”

Brenda has been terribly excited for this meeting to propose her plan. With a talented student like Angus, he would surely enjoy and benefit from a slightly nonstandard curriculum. It had taken a degree of convincing Missus Aurix, but she relented and agreed to allow the plan if Angus’s guardians approve--The reaction she receives is not quite the one she has been anticipating.

“You think _you_ can do better than Transmutation, do ya, Brandi?”

While his tone is light enough, the slant of his ears and the cant of his furrowed eyebrows is disconcerting. The second use of an incorrect name isn’t better, a deliberate slight then. There’s something disappointing in that, though she’s not sure if she’s disappointed in Mister Fromteevee for not meeting her expectations--not those she has of The Bird but those she has based upon Angus’ excited stories--or in herself for taking so long to notice the hostility.

“Ah, I believe there’s been a bit of confusion here, Mister Fromteevee. While I am Angus’ teacher, we don’t actually practice magic in my classes. My particular type of magic isn’t one that can really _be_ taught, but I do try my best to make sure that all my students understand the history and origins of different varieties of magic.”

For a moment, the room is so quiet one could hear a pin drop, then Mister Fromteevee releases the most dramatic sigh she’s ever heard. He throws his hands up and pronounces, “Wait--You’re telling me I wore my intimidation heels for _nothing_?”

“I-I’m sorry? Your _what_?”

Mister Fromteevee pulls his legs off her desk at a languid pace, nearly knocking her row of succulents from their place on the corner and very much knocking over her cup of pens and highlighters, which loudly clatter across the floor.

“Listen, Brigitte, lemme lay down something real fast before Taako’s out: Angus is _my_ Magic Boy. No fancy school is gonna take away that he’s where he is today because of _my_ teaching.”

For the first time in the meeting Brenda can't quite force her smile to stay in place, it slips from her face to be replaced with the smallest of puzzled frowns. In almost direct contrast, Mister Fromteevee seems to take her expression as a sort of victory and grins wide like the tabaxi who caught the canary.

Perhaps in any other situation, to be baited like this might rankle more, but right now one of her _students_ is being talked down. “Mister Fromteevee, I don’t think that’s fair to Angus,” she rumbles softly Her hands drift over her desk and pull out the permission form and carefully holding it out for Mister Fromteevee to take.

The elf, grin faltering ever so slightly, raises an eyebrow at her and the proffered document. “Not catchin’ your drift, Britney.”

“I think anyone who speaks to Angus about his family will know how greatly you all have influenced him. _However_ , it’s a disservice to his own talent and work ethic to say that Angus McDonald could ever be _anything_ but extraordinary.”

This time Mister Fromteevee has no witty retort prepared and instead his hard stare bores into Brenda’s own serenely held smile. It isn’t that she’s not intimidated by him, per se, because she isn’t dumb no matter how slowly and softly she speaks. She might dwarf him physically, but she remembers the Day of Story and Song and understands that the man seated before her outmatches her own magic by so much that it’s nearly comical. However, Brenda is stubborn and she will never let a good word about a student, especially one as special as Angus, go unspoken.

“Alright, _Brenda_ ,” his voice lilts haughtily as he snatches the permission slip from her hand and begins to scan through it, ”you figure out Angus’s little schedule or whatever and I’ll sign off on it but you’re still on thin fucking ice for that Transmutation comment.”

Mister Fromteeve is certainly pricklier than Mister Burnsides but his love for Angus shines through differently and just as brightly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you'd like to see any of my other writing you can check out my tumblr, https://bopeepwritingsheep.tumblr.com/ 
> 
> I'm going to start putting some of my misc TAZ writing stuff up on there, I take prompts, and in general ramble a lot about whatever I'm writing.


	4. Mister Highchurch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Miss Good meets Mister Highchurch.

“Thank you so much, I know it’s very short notice but I really appreciate you agreeing to help, Mister Highchurch.”

“Don’t mention, sister! This got me out of an _early_ morning meeting with Sterling, really you’re doing me the favor.”

He waddles after her, even with her pace slowing for the sake of the children, he practically speedwalks to keep up. She lessens her pace again, just a bit to ensure the man doesn’t get too winded before she sets him out with his group. “I’m not sure what I would have done if we’d had to cancel the field trip, the children have all been so excited to visit the Neverwinter zoo.”

“Oh yeah, brats love that kind of thing! Waving at animals and poking their grubby little faces against the glass! Thanks for letting me bring my kids along with, Mookie gets along with everyone but I’ve never seen him so calm with anyone but his mom before! Maybe I should see if Hecuba’d be willing to consider the whole fantasy private school thing.”

Brenda smiles because both children are delightful in entirely different ways. The little dwarven boy had been completely free of any sense of fear--and any sense of propriety--and his first question had been for a piggyback ride that Brenda had happily obliged. His current perch on her shoulders, scampering back and forth as they enter the zoo, is really no different than how she sometimes carries the family of possums that live outside her cottage if perhaps a bit heavier.

The little dwarf’s careless tugging of her ears are met with chastisement and the gentle threat of having to walk. Mookie settles the best he’s able and Brenda praises him warmly. Mister Highchurch seems impressed and she guesses that Mookie’s boisterous behavior is not so easily contained. Granted, she’s sure she’ll have to remind him a few more time to use his inside voice and gentle hands, but children are always learning and Brenda is always willing to teach.

Mister Highchurch’s daughter, Mavis, stays closer to the front of the cluster of children before them, talking excitedly with Angus. The two of them thumb through guidebooks, likely deciding which of the exhibits they want to visit after they’ve finished watching the presentation that brought them to the zoo in the first place. They’d almost had to cancel when suddenly Mateo’s fathers had both needed to drop out of the field trip the day before and the loss of two chaperones simply made the plan for exploring the zoo after the presentation unsafe.

Brenda had scrambled through her list of guardians and hadn’t expected the only one available to be The Merle Highchurch but he’d been perfectly amiable and even offered to bring his eldest daughter as the second chaperone if he’d just be able to bring along his youngest as well. Brenda had quickly agreed.

The firbolg now finds herself quite happy that she did, enjoying her time with Mister Highchurch as all of the children _ooh_ and _aah_ at the little animal ambassadors. The little pseudodragon is a big hit in particular as it weaves around the students and happily accepts treats from the flat, outstretched palms of selected students.

Mister Highchurch lets out an abrupt, hearty laugh at his son, who clambers down from Brenda’s shoulders and proceeds to pile onto Angus’ who nearly stumbles over before catching himself, apparently not unused to the younger boy’s antics. The two are completely enraptured by the young owlbear doing simple tasks for its handler, demonstrating the various forms of enrichment the zoo provides for its animals.

She knows that her students will more than likely all end up as talented wizards and sorcerers when they’re grown, but she knows that moments like these, the realization of the sheer _majesty_ of nature and its creatures--This is how druids and rangers form.

Mister Highchurch grins just as widely beside her, though perhaps for different reasons as Mavis moves to ensure that Mookie keeps his hands gentle as the handler offers to let them pet a small flying snake. “Surprised you’re a teacher, the way you look at all those creatures. Nearly pegged you for a druid the moment I saw you. Just got one of those auras ya know? Tree huggers like me _always_ know how to spot fellow hippies.”

Brenda laughs, because the man’s cheer is infectious and he certainly isn’t wrong, “I do love nature, it’s always been there for me--And it will be around for so much longer after I’m gone,” The words come automatically, years of repetition of her childhood beliefs that still hold a place in her heart--just not the _largest_ place anymore, “It isn’t that I don’t think I’d be happy back in the forest, a keeper of the land, but I think I’m so much happier doing this.”

It’s something so hard to describe. It had confused her clan, who just hadn’t been able to understand why she hadn’t been happy with just teaching its own children. Why she had strayed so far from the forest, into the wider world to leave her footprint. She’s still not exactly certain she can explain it--but she knows the feeling in her chest when she helps a student with a particularly hard problem, or watching them ace a difficult test, or just watching them happy and chatting at their desks when she walks in the room every morning. It’s a good feeling, one she had never been able to feel while locked inside her little patch of forest.

There’s something about Mister Highchurch that has her admitting things she’s really only ever admitted to herself, and it feels like a little weight lifts from her shoulders. His grins widens. She’s almost certain she hasn’t seen a single expression on his face that hasn’t been an easy grin or a look of general contentment.

“You and me both, sister. Best path to follow is the one that brings you happiness. Might take a while to figure out that path but once you find it just keep walkin’ it.”

Really, Mister Highchurch seems to Brenda like a kind-hearted, if a rather odd man of the cloth. She appreciates his love of nature; he favors flora where her own faith lies in fauna but it endears the dwarf to her, somewhere on a deep fundamental level. She still has Angus make sure his chaperone group stays far from the zoo’s botanical gardens exhibit--She remembers the voidfish's broadcast.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was WEIRD to write because I had a hard time pinning down Merle's character. Overall, I'm pretty alright with how it turned out even if I think a little bit of his dialogue is still off. Brenda ended up with a sort of weird kinship to Merle that I honestly hadn't expected at ALL but here it is.
> 
> Also I have a beta now! Big thanks to MonsterCatMusicGirl who looked over this chapter and the previous ones! Some grammatical fixes have been made but everythings the same content-wise.
> 
> Feel free to hit me up on tumblr at bopeepwritingsheep if you've got any question, prompts, or comments about Brenda or anything Taz related!


	5. Missus Bluejeans

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Miss Good meets Missus Bluejeans.

“Holy shit, is that a goddamn _spider_?”

“Language please, Missus Bluejeans--And yes, her name is Justin.”

“And you’ve got a fucking _lizard_.”

“That’s Marvin.”

“Alright, the guinea pigs are normal but two of them?”

“Those are Lady Macbeth and Ginny Pig, and guinea pigs are actually highly social animals who need companionship.”

“Companionship? You’ve got an actual _petting zoo_ in here.”

“They’re good for teaching responsibility and empathy for other types of creatures.”

Missus Bluejeans seems content to scout around the room. Her slender hands trail over desks and against walls in a way that makes Brenda twitch. It isn’t that she thinks Missus Bluejeans will purposely injure one of the animals, but she’s just so _exuberant_ where Brenda would be gentle.

“Holy shit, there are MORE?” When Missus Bluejeans comes to a stop before the little aquarium her grin widens and she taps excitedly against the glass and the small swarm of fish startle. Immediately they move in a frenzy, a few even running straight for the glass where Missus Bluejean’s extended index finger is still pressed. A bout of whooping laughter fills the room, Brenda suppresses the whine that threatens to bubble up from her throat. 

“ _Please_ don’t tap on the glass; the quippers are very sensitive.”

It only takes Brenda three loping strides to place herself beside Missus Bluejeans and the tank. Her sudden bout of speed seems to surprise the elf. Missus Bluejeans sidesteps to give Brenda room to crouch before the tank. When the firbolg speaks it is not to Missus Bluejeans, whose eyes dart back and forth between the tank and the teacher. Brenda’s words lilt softly, gliding between deep mammalian rumbles and birdsong. The fish settle and Brenda reaches beneath their tank, pulling out a small container of dried shrimp and placing a generous handful--and as a Firbolg her handfuls are _very_ generous--into the tank as she continues to murmur soothing tones.

“You keep _quippers_ around kids? You’re hella fuckin’ metal, Big B!”

Brenda cringes, her ears laying back slightly as she frantically looks around the room, which is thankfully free of any children, “Missus Bluejeans, language, _please_.”

While Missus Bluejeans still practically bounces with excitement where she stands, she has the good nature to look--well, not sheepish like Brenda would at such a chastisement but somewhat apologetic as she holds her hands up, “Hey there, Big B, it’s alright. Didn’t mean to ruffle your bubbles.”

Brenda nods, because really Missus Bluejeans is a whirlwind and she’s really not sure there’s anything else _to_ do. She’s not even sure why the woman is here in the first place, only that one moment Brenda had been grading papers at her desk and the next her door had slammed open and a single beautiful elf had marched in as if she owned the classroom. It had nearly given the firbolg a heart attack.

Now that Missus Bluejeans is here, Brenda can't help as she runs a hand nervously over her soft pink braid, smoothing away any flyaways as she stands back up. Missus Bluejeans is _very_ pretty--especially when the elf is smiling instead of traipsing about her classroom, trying to stick her hands in the terrariums. Of course, she’s as pretty as Mister Fromteevee, but his beauty is carefully kept and arranged for maximum effect. Missus Bluejeans’ is wild in a way that harkens to a crashing thunderstorm or a raging forest fire.

She’s glad, for a moment, that firbolgs are so reclusive because it means most people can’t actually tell when she’s blushing.

“I--it's alright, just please use gentle hands.” She doesn't really mean to phrase it like she’s talking to one of her students, but Missus Bluejeans doesn't seem offended. While Brenda is good with children, very good if she feels like bragging, her social grace with adults is sometimes lacking. Missus Bluejeans doesn’t appear to mind that, as she launches into a series of rapidfire questions about the various animals around the room.

Brenda blinks rapidly, doing her best to keep up and rumble out answers when Missus Bluejeans breaks to breathe--Does she _need_ to breathe? Brenda isn’t sure, and does not particularly want to know the exact details pertaining to the lichdom she knows the woman before her possesses. Besides that, it seems like a terribly personal question and Brenda is only her ward’s teacher.

It’s almost mesmerizing speaking with Missus Bluejeans, who is somehow both more and less intimidating than Brenda had anticipated. She leads their conversation with ease and though the firbolg feels slightly bumbling at first, the elven woman has such an easy way of making Brenda forget about her previous anxiety--Even if Missus Bluejeans had been the the one to cause it in the first place.

Their pleasant chat goes on for some time, until Brenda glances at the clock and startles. She hadn’t realized it was getting so _late_.

“Oh goodness, I’m so sorry, Missus Bluejeans but I do need to be going. My ah,” she stumbles slightly on her words, because she doesn’t want to come off as strange, “my roomates will wonder why I’m so late. I’m never late.”

Her roommates are less _roommates_ in the traditional sense. However, she’s found that trying to explain that she lives with various animals from the woods behind her home who have slowly decided the cottage is as much theirs as hers tends not to go over well. Children never mind, because to them it sounds like something out of a story, but she learned very quickly that few humanoid adults approve.

Missus Bluejeans is completely unperturbed as Brenda suddenly turns to carefully collect her papers. Casually, the elven woman leans over the desk, right into the Brenda’s personal space and the firbolg _freezes_ . She’s nearly mesmerized by the elf’s smile, wide and dazzling in a way that Brenda doesn’t even have the facial structure, let alone the sheer _panache_ , to replicate. Again, she’s very glad that most people don’t know how to spot a firbolg’s blush.

“Don’t you keep them waiting on _my_ account, babe. Maggie and Merle said you were fine but Taako was still on the fence so cha’girl just had to check for herself!”

The resplendent elf winks and Brenda’s heart flutters. “See ya around, Big B!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh man, Brenda is so very gay and so am I and her delicate heart just can't take Lup, ya know???? This was SUPER fun to write, I love Lup SO MUCH and it's not where I intended to go with her chapter but it definitely is where it ended up and I'm pleased.
> 
> Thanks again to my beta MonsterCatMusicGirl and if y'all have any questions, additional comments, prompts hit me up on my tumblr bopeepwritingsheep
> 
> The lizard and tarantula are both mbmbam references (OBVIOUSLY WITH JUSTIN) but those to guinea pigs are direct references to guinea pigs I have owned previously because I'm a proud guinea parent.


	6. Mister Bluejeans

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Miss Good meets Mister Bluejeans.

Mister Bluejeans has, thus far, been nothing but pleasant, if perhaps a bit awkward with conversation. It’s somewhat relieving in a small way, after the whirlwind that had been the man’s wife and brother-in-law that at least one bird is someone a bit more at her level in terms of social interaction. His interest in the school’s curriculum is a pleasant bonus.

They spend some time discussing the finer points of comparative nature magic. Mister Bluejeans has been helping Angus with his class project just as much as Mister Highchurch, even going so far as to help his group tend to a few experiments with magically grown carnations. Brenda is absolutely thrilled that Angus has such a scientifically driven influence in his life, for all that she knows his other guardians care for him deeply, having someone to help more directly channel that unending magical curiosity of his is nothing but wonderful.

“So uh, this school’s got a pretty wide focus on magic, doesn’t it?”

“Yes, we do our best to give students a more thorough magical education than typical schools. Science and the arts are so often neglected in favor of Fantasy sports programs, it’s important to nurture young potential!”

Mister Bluejeans nods enthusiastically, “Yeah, the curriculum here is really something else, but I noticed you’re sort of, uh, missing some subjects from Angus’ syllabus. I was kinda wondering what all that was about?”

It isn’t the first time a concerned parent has made a similar enough comment, particularly those who specialize in the missing schools, “Oh, don't worry the students will have detailed units on enchantment and divination once they've moved up to the next schooling level.”

“Oh, I guess that makes sense, that stuff can get a little complicated for younger kids. Is that when they've got the necromancy unit too?”

The question stops Brenda short and her head tilts to the side  _ ever _ so slightly,

“...We--We don't  _ have _ a necromancy unit, Mister Bluejeans.”

The sheer incredulity in her voice appears to catch Mister Bluejeans off guard, nearly as much as his question had knocked the previous warmth out of her voice and replaced it with confusion. Because Brenda is still reeling, just a bit. On a vague level, she is aware of Mister Bluejeans past inclinations towards necromancy. However, just as with his wife, the firbolg had dismissed the entire issue as an act of desperation in a situation with no other options. Lichdom as an  _ active choice _ simply hadn’t occurred to her.

Mister Bluejeans, enthusiastic and undaunted, doesn’t seem to realize just how uncomfortable he’s made the firbolg before him. Brenda is willing,  _ more _ than willing, to sweep away the issue, because she’d  _ really _ rather not discuss it. That Mister Bluejeans himself is a lich is tempered by the fact that he is also one of Angus’ guardians, she so  _ desperately _ wants to go back to discussing horticultural charms and cantrips--

But Mister Bluejeans continues, “I-I’m not saying you should be teaching them how to make revenants and  _ thralls _ and stuff, but you know, it’s always good to know a little bit of all the basics. So you can fight against it!”

Brenda can't help it really, the way her eyes widen then narrow as she gives the multiclassed, jean clad man what is perhaps the most  _ dubious _ to ever grace her facial features. Which, as a firbolg, she possesses at least forty-five percent more face than most sentient creatures, the disapproving slant to the corners of her large mouth is so much more pronounced than she likes them to be.

But Mister Bluejeans continues on with the same casual academic fervor that Brenda had welcomed moments before, “Come on, you’re not curious at all? Knowing your enemies is, uh, half the battle.”

All beings, animals, humanoids, giantkin and every other manner of creature must live and die. They each feed Faerun with their nutrients so that all other beings can live and die and renew the cycle. Normally she tries  _ very _ hard not to judge the beliefs of others with the lens of her own culture clouding her assessment, but necromancy is  _ very much _ a place where she knows her line is drawn.

“I’m teaching  _ children _ , Mister Bluejeans. They shouldn’t be battling anything at all.”

“I mean, that’s an  _ optimistic _ way of putting it but, like, given the career paths most available for the types of skill sets this school teaches it’s way probable that at least a third of these kids will run into zombies, revenants, and even some liches.”

“They're  _ children _ . We should be their protectors and sometimes that means protection from knowledge that they aren’t yet prepared for, Mister Bluejeans.”

“That doesn’t--Leaving them defenseless isn’t  _ noble _ .”

For the first time in what feels like ages, Brenda raises herself to her full height without truly thinking about it. She isn’t  _ trying _ to intimidate Mister Bluejeans--It’s a possibility she’s normally so careful to account for in her interactions with humanoids but for once, she  _ forgets _ . This man has faced down existential horrors untold, one school teacher likely isn’t going to rank on his list of most threatening. However, given the way she so often hunches her shoulders down, trying to be so much smaller than she is, the difference is tangible. Standing tall makes others take her  _ seriously _ .

It reminds Brenda that others  _ should _ take her seriously.

She has a hard earned degree in childhood education and a double minor in children’s psychology and cross-school magical studies. Mister Bluejeans is a planar system saving multiclassed hero with impressive degrees of his own and Brenda will admit that his opinions certainly hold some degree of weight--But Brenda is the teacher, bringing up tomorrow's heros with compassion and a gentle hand. Her opinions are just as relevant.

“Having the powers that so many of them do, the abilities that some may explanations for but others have no discernable source can be very  _ frightening _ .” It’s an old argument really, the same one she’s used time and time again for divination and enchantment. Missus Aurix has been quite clear that it is the duty of every staff member at Amnesty Academy to keep it’s students safe from not just the magics that the world will one day throw at them but also the magic within them. “These children are  _ powerful _ , Mister Bluejeans. Powerful, frightened children are not a good combination.”

In most cases, just words settle impending arguments. Brenda isn’t sure if it’s her tone or her sentiment but Mister Bluejeans only looks more inclined to dig in his metaphorical heels if his darkening expression is any indication.

“They’ll be  _ more _ frightened if they aren’t prepared.” Mister Bluejeans releases an exasperated sigh. He cards his fingers through his hair and begins mumbling under his breath in a way that Brenda is almost positive he doesn't actually realize she can hear. An oversight or an unintentional slight? She isn’t entirely sure.

"You're okay with them learning to summon fire elementals, ice elementals water elementals, whatever. I suggest what is basically the equivalent of a  _ pork _ elemental, and it’s  _ blasphemy _ ."

Brenda can feel her fur rising on the back of her neck, her arms, and knows there’s no way to hide her clear discomfort bordering anger that his words have ignited as her ears flatten. That Mister Bluejeans can somehow justify to himself that what he’s proposing  _ isn’t  _ blasphemy is utterly baffling. Brenda’s mother would be rendered speechless. Brenda’s grandmother would be rendered  _ quite _ the opposite.

Brenda finds herself someplace in the middle as once again she find her normal means of deflection and conflict aversion completely upended. Given Angus’ stories about Mister Bluejeans she had not prepared herself for another Mister Fromteevee situation, instead settling herself for something more like Magnus or Merle.

She is  _ very  _ unpleasantly surprised, and makes a mental note to stop allowing herself expectations of the birds. For better or for worse, they truly do shatter any and all she could possibly set out.

“If you would like to teach Angus of necromancy that is your own business, Mister Bluejeans.” It comes out sharper than Brenda intends. “I-- _ Maybe _ when they’re older, when they move on to the next age group, if you’re  _ truly _ determined to see this added to our curriculum you can speak with Missus Aurix but it will not be a subject that  _ I _ teach.”

And, at the end of the day, childhood welfare taken into consideration or not, Brenda knows what she is about. Her deep, ingrained disdain for necromancy is not something that even Angus’ guardian can sway no matter how compelling his argument. If Missus Aurix steps in, as Brenda’s actual boss she  _ might _ be inclined to lean slightly on her beliefs. To teach the theory just enough to understand it’s weaknesses but it’s still an idea that sets her stomach churning.

Finally, Mister Bluejeans sees her not so subtle insistence to drop the subject and grumbles something  _ legitimately _ unintelligible. Not because Brenda can’t hear it but because she’s almost certain he’s no longer speaking in common. The rest of their conference is considerably frostier. Polite, certainly, but with an unmistakable tension that makes Brenda want to stuff her head in the quibbler tank and perhaps let them eat her ears so they’ll stop drooping so much. Her mother always told her it was her worst tell, that she could smile her way through a forest fire but one look at her ears and everyone would know exactly how she felt.

She shakes Mister Bluejeans’ hand when they’re finished; he compliments her mock-up of Angus’ schedule for next semester but neither of their smiles really match their eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OH BOY, I LOVE BARRY SO MUCH I'M SORRY ABOUT THIS ONE. So this chapter took me an ABSURDLY long time because I REALLY struggled trying to figure out how Barry and Brenda would get along and I kind of just, uhhh, came to the conclusion that they wouldn't? Like, I think if they met in a group where someone could maybe derail this trainreck of a conversation they could be good but these two have a lot of opposing opinions and it seemed interesting to explore. I really did have to sit and reassure myself that Brenda doesn't have to get along with all the birds and this went through a lot of rewrites because I didn't want Barry to come off as a dick. I'm RELATIVELY happy with how this turned out.
> 
> edit: My beta has taken a look so minor edits for grammar but none for content!


	7. Miss Lucretia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Miss Good meets Miss Lucretia.

Amnesty Academy’s entry requirements are almost entirely merit-based. For the most part, this is because Missus Aurix only collects the best and brightest pupils but Brenda knows there are a few children of select alumni who coast in on the expectations of greatness from a specific draconic lineage. It doesn’t bother her overmuch, because she knows how important family is to their headmistress. However, there are times when it seems slightly unfair to her other students.

Mostly it’s her non-sorcerers she worries for, those without magic inherent to their very being, that must dig their fingers in a little harder and pull themselves up a little farther to keep up with the class.

Angus is admittedly one such student. He is, of course, gifted but Brenda is positive that the real gift is his stubborn spirit and iron will that keeps him moving forward in the face of any level of adversity. He had been on Missus Aurix’s recruitment list long before the Day of Story and Song, but by the time an invitation had been sent the boy had mysteriously vanished.

Missus Aurix has been _intensely_ interested in Brenda meeting with the woman who had scooped little Angus McDonald from her own clutches. While she herself might say as much in so many words, the firbolg is also quite intrigued if perhaps a bit nervous to meet said woman.  

The circumstances of their eventual meeting don't exactly help with leveling the playing field, so to speak. Finding herself not with the woman visiting her office but visiting the office of the Madame Director of the Bureau of Benevolence hadn’t been how Brenda planned to spend the first day of her Candlenights break, but lo and behold she finds herself here. To be honest, Brenda is surprised the meeting hasn't been put off until after the holiday, not everyone has as much free time as Brenda does this time of year and she would have expected the Madame Director to have more pressing matters to attend to than petty legal papers. Still, Brenda will take the meeting as a Candlenights gift all on its own, even if she's only an errand girl for Missus Aurix, it really is an honor.

“I will admit, I had expected Headmistress Aurix.”

Brenda flushes slightly. She does her best not to fiddle, instead of pressing her hands into the pockets of her sweater. She knows she isn’t as impressive as Missus Aurix - no one _really_ is - but she’s trusted by Missus Aurix which is a point of pride in and of itself--And it’s _such_ an honor to meet the Madame Director, so Brenda does her very best to stay calm and level.

It’s a valiant effort, but she can still feel heat beneath her fur.

“She was very flattered by the invitation, but it’s very difficult for her to leave school grounds unless it’s an emergency; polymorphing aggravates an old injury of hers.” Brenda’s hands twitch with ambient energy. She moves as smoothly as she is able to pull out the folder of waivers and invoices that she had been sent to deliver.

Lucretia spots her movements and holds out a hand for the file. Brenda fumbles a bit in her haste to pass it over, their fingers brush. The firbilg's ears perk very much without her approval. Lucretia speaks, “Please send her my apologies then, perhaps when rebuilding settles down a bit I will be able to visit her myself.”

“We would be honored to have you visit the school, Madame Director!”

“You can call me Lucretia if you’d like, Miss Good. For better or for worse I expect we’ll be seeing each other rather often if my family’s, ah, shenanigans are any indication.”

“They aren’t so bad, just...very enthusiastic about Angus’ future.”

“Yes, we’re _all_ very invested in seeing him succeed. I’ve heard you’re the one who developed his class schedule, I imagine it must have taken some time since it’s so hand tailored to his skills. It’s very impressive, Miss Good.”

Again, Brenda blushes doing her best to keep her nod slow and steady despite the soft heat radiating off her face. The Director liked her teaching plan-- _approved_ of it even. “I--Yes, well, Angus is an incredibly gifted boy. He wasn’t--Well, it isn’t that the academy _can’t_ challenge him, but it wasn’t.” Brenda knows she’s rambling, but the words still tumble out with a nervous pressure and a wide smile, “It took some finagling with other teachers, convincing them his advancements qualified him for higher level classes but I was careful to keep still keep his schedule balanced, he needs to be challenged but never overburdened!”

Madame Director-- _Miss Lucretia_ \--watches her as she speaks, gaze attentive and unwavering and Brenda can’t help but feel something akin to her years as a student under the steady watch of professors. Only magnified by about twenty times.

She still has an _entire meeting_ to keep her cool over--She taps above her heart where her pendant lies between layers of clothing and sends up a silent, inconspicuous prayer to Her Lady for luck. It’s not exactly Her domain but it’s a habit that Brenda’s never really bothered to let lapse.

If Miss Lucretia notices she makes no comment as she flips through the papers Brenda had handed her. “Well, these all seem well enough in order, please be sure to emphasize how happy we are that Headmistress Aurix has decided not to press charges against the twins for the property damage and inciting a riot at a school function.”

“I mean--It wasn’t _technically_ a riot. We didn’t have to call the militia until Missus Bluejeans tipped the water cooler onto Missus Brandle’s head.” And though she won’t say it out loud, Brenda’s own experiences with Missus Brandle led her to believe the fire genasi and current leader of the PTA had very much deserved it.

“Be that as it may, I assure you the twins will be...more _contained_ in their future participatory goals in parental _politics_ at the academy.”

At first Brenda nods, pleased for the good news to bring back to the school that will hopefully settle some of the wilder rumors going around the teaching staff. Then the _phrasing_ hits her, the emphasis on _politics_ . The firbolg’s heart races as The Nightmare Scenario occurs to her, “ _Oh Goddess_ , they’re both running for PTA president, aren’t they?”

Across the desk, Miss Lucretia remains calm and collected as any point in their conversation, she leans back in her chair. Gives a small nod at Brenda’s professed fear as she reaches across the desk and daintily plucks a single pistachio from a small bowl. Miss Lucretia pops the still shelled snack into her mouth without a beat of hesitation the crunch resounding through the room impressively. Brenda wonders for a brief, dazed moment if she used minor illusion to amplify the sound or if her jaw is simply that powerful.

“Oh, they certainly _plan_ on it but I’ve found a surefire way to keep either of them from winning,” Miss Lucretia grins, entirely different from the polite smiles Brenda has witnessed thus far. It almost reminds her of Missus Aurix, a look that’s all relaxed confidence, teeth, and barely restrained power, “I’m running against them.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Slightly early update because I can't help myself, I'm gay, Brenda's gay, Lucretia's gay and I had to share it with y'all.
> 
> Once again much love for my beta, MonsterCatMusicGirl. Any questions, comments, or just wanna chat about my beautiful firbolg daughter? Hit me up at bopeepwritingsheep on tumblr.


	8. Captain Davenport

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Miss Good meets Captain Davenport.

“Alright, class. Today we’ve been very lucky to have so many parents and guardians here for career day! Our final guest will be one of Angus’ guardians,” A small commotion stirs as everyone turns to look at Angus and his very famous guardian, “Please welcome Captain Davenport.”

Brenda smiles widely as she gestures for the gnome to step forward. He marches surely and proudly, greeting the class with a grin and a salute, “Well, it’s an honor to meet the classmates of my young friend, Angus.”

“What questions do we have for Captain Davenport?” Several students and even a few parents begin to speak all at once. Brenda frowns and steps forward to settle them down when the captain pointedly clears his throat. All at once the room goes quiet but nearly every hand in the room shoots up. Davenport smiles and nods to Brenda with a wink.

Miriel’s hand practically shakes in the air with barely contained excitement. Captain Davenport gestures towards her and the orcish girl lets out an excited gasp. She glances to her left and right, just to double check that the legendary Bird is really talking to her.

Once she’s certain she practically leaps to her feet, “Hi, my name is Miriel and I like illusion magic too!"

"It's nice to meet you, Miriel. What question can I answer for you?"

"How come you’re piloting a regular boat when you have a spaceship?”

Davenport chuckles, “Well, I spent an entire century exploring space. I think it's fair to spend the next one exploring the seas." He strides forward, easily maneuvering around the crowd of children and guardians in the room. Extra chairs had been brought in to accommodate the various parents and guardians, Brenda’s class had received an almost unprecedented number of volunteer speakers--A fact that she’s certain is due to the knowledge that one of Angus’ guardians would be attending.

Now Captain Davenport presides over a full classroom, every being in attendance utterly taken with his presence. Even Brenda isn’t entirely unaffected though she’s much less obvious about it than her nearly frenzied students and their gaping parents.

He surveys the room before his eyes settle on a small gnome, hand raised high as their little body can manage, “What question do you have, young one?”

The child stands, slowly and purposefully but they're practically puffed out, tail flicking back and forth quickly and the beginnings of pronounced sideburns that might one day grow into an impressive beard twitching as they attempt to keep their face professional in spite of their obvious excitement.

“My name is Tam, Captain. Can you tell me how do you get people to take you seriously even when you’re small?”

The captain nods, his expression softening as he hops up onto the child’s desk to sit so the two gnomes can speak eye to eye. Tam straightens from their position standing in their seat, practically at attention. Smiling softly, Brenda takes note of Tam’s tail, once again flickering with anticipation.

“To tell you the truth, the jacket helps a little. When I was your age it was hard, when I’ve been my age sometimes it’s hard too but the things we can’t choose in life, our size, our voices, our species they don’t have _anything_ to do with our competence and anyone who thinks they do isn’t someone you need to be considering the opinion of.”

The smaller gnome nods, their former pout curling just a bit around the corners as they settle back down into their chair. Brenda is glad that the usually rather shy Tam has managed to speak up to the older gnome. Brenda would wager good money that this isn’t a lesson that little Tam will soon forget.

Questions go on for a little longer, Brenda tries her best to make sure she gets to every student at least once, given the time constraint. On one occasion the combined weight of her own stare joined by the captain himself at one Missus Brandle quickly silences the woman and her attempt to ask her own question when her child is called upon.

Brenda leads the class in a quick pronouncement of ‘Thank you, Captain Davenport’ before she turns to ask her own final question, “Captain, is there anything you’d like to tell us about what you do for a living and what our students can do if they’d like to pursue a similar career?”

It takes a moment for the captain to reply, twirling idly at his mustache as he considers, “I expect you all know quite a bit about my previous occupations, but I’ve had many jobs throughout my life. All of them have been important to me, though perhaps some have been more important than others on a strictly utilitarian standpoint however they’ve all taught me important lessons about duty and it’s true importance.”

Brenda’s smile falters slightly, though the placid expression quickly returns in spite of her now drooping ears. It isn’t terribly surprising, a military man who had fought against the hunger for a century would value duty and honor, but the words still bring back her own abandonment of such things. The words of her grandmother echoed in the mouth of a hero sting.

“It can be simpler to do your duty because someone tells you to, not because it’s easier but because it’s what you’ve always known.”

Davenport’s hands dance through the air as he speaks, just as emotive and jubilant as his expression. His mustache bounces, “However, every twist and turn the road of life provides each of us with is an opportunity for adventure, an opportunity for exploration.”

It’s not quite bardic but there’s an undercurrent of _something_ in the captain’s words that have the entire class enraptured. A presence so much larger than the man himself that shines through in his sincerity and heart. She had--Brenda had misjudged him, taken her preconceptions for granted, and she’s terribly happy to have been wrong.

“Not all of you are going to be explorers, and that’s alright, but if you ever feel like there’s somewhere out there beyond if only you can reach it? Keep reaching. Every time you see a star or a horizon that makes you wonder? Keep wondering. A curious mind set to wander with the right tools and passion is just as valuable as any sedentary scientist or scholar.”

“Keep searching for your dream, and when you find it? Well, you’ll learn that there’s always another dream just like there’s always more horizon or another star just beyond the last to follow.”

The words cut right at Brenda’s core, she watches Captain Davenport but takes a step back. Makes to retreat back to her desk perhaps a bit sooner than she had with the other guardians. The captain is experienced with wrangling crowds and public speaking, Brenda can take a moment for herself. Goddess, she wishes someone like the captain could have given her these words as a child, but that the children under her care will have them--That’s _something_. It has to be.

The captain gives one final salute before he pivots and marches back to Angus’ side, hopping back onto his chair and offering the boy a hearty clap on the back. The young boy’s voice lowers into an exaggerated stage whisper as Angus leans into the touch, earning an affectionate shoulder squeeze, “Don’t forget what Taako says the best part of the IPRE job was, if your home plane gets vored by a metaphysical abomination you never have to pay back your student loans!”

Davenport’s groan is very much not stage-whispered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Davenport was a struuuuuggggle to write, I just really had the hardest time figuring out his voice. This chapter I think is a bit shorter because of it but I'm pretty damn happy with how his speech turned out, it felt like a good balance between the captain of the starblaster and captain of the wavehumper.
> 
> WE'RE GETTING INTO THE HOME STRETCH!!! Everything but the epilogue is actually finished and pending beta! So expect the next few updates to be pretty consistently stretched over the oncoming weekend.


	9. Angus McDonald

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Miss Brenda defends Angus.

Thanks to the sheer level of young untapped magical energy that radiates from the school, threats against the students, while not common, are not unexpected. It's an aspect of their teacher orientation that Missus Aurix drills into them with a particular protective vigor. Rules upon regulations for proper procedures, evacuations, and if need be the best places to stand off until help can arrive. 

Brenda keeps all of this in mind when she steps between her class, clustered together and fearful, and the trio of dark hooded figures in the auditorium’s center. They had almost oozed out of the floor, a noxious scent wafting in with them that has Brenda’s heart racing. Out of the corner of her eye, she spots a small figure bolting forward. Without thinking, she reaches out and snatches Angus up by the collar of his fancy little jacket. She holds him aloft like a kitten, glancing at him once but never letting her eyes stray from the cloaked figures for very long.

Gently she sets him down behind her and rumbles, soft and serious, “Angus, stay with the class.”

Angus, sweet, brave, and strong Angus only shuffles back to her side. He doesn’t move to pass her, because she knows he is smarter than that, Brenda will only grab him again if he does. The little boy brandishes his wand, a determined scowl coloring his features as he stares danger square in its face. Brenda’s heart clenches for this brave little boy, but she takes another step forward and places her free hand softly upon his scalp. 

She can feel his small hand on her calf, trying to push his way forward but he’s just so  _ small _ . He’s so  _ brave _ and Brenda’s heart hurts as he cries out, “Miss Good! You could get hurt, let me help!”

She can’t look at him now, because if she does she might give in to his pleas and if she does it means looking away from the danger. She may not be prey but Her Children are and she knows the rules of nature - both predator and prey must be hypervigilant. The moment she looks away is the moment they will take to strike.

“Angus,  _ please _ .” Her voice is soft, it lilts in the same way that harkens to the warbling of songbirds or the braying of fauns, “I need you to keep the other students calm for me. You're the only one who's been in a situation like this. If something happens can I trust you to lead them to safety?”

She can feel Angus beneath her hand practically vibrating with frustrated energy, every part of her wants to kneel before him and apologize. Brenda is so sorry he’s been put in this situation, school is supposed to be a safe haven and these monsters have  _ desecrated _ it.

She feels the burn in her nose, the stench of rot and grave soil. She needs to get the children out immediately, and if that means setting Angus in charge of their potential escape while she stays then so be it. She stands tall and resolute as Angus crowds the rest of the students out towards the emergency exit. She wishes, so desperately, that there were other options and mentally she can’t help but chastise Angus for how he lingers at the doorway

Her hands fiddle with the buttons of her sweater until she can pull out her focus, her teeth bared in a terrible snarl. Her students are _ in danger _ . A low growl reverberates through the auditorium, a guttural threat, and quite frankly a nonverbal promise of protection.

Brenda is soft, but her students are softer. Her enemies outnumber her but they are small where she is so very large. One of them makes to duck past her, to follow the children and Brenda roars, one long arm snaps out and she catches the cultist by the neck. Blunted nails dig into soft flesh, they don’t pierce but she can feel the heartbeat in the attacker's neck. Green eyes linger for a moment before she slams the figure into the ground and presses one massive hoof into it’s back.

“You will  _ not _ touch them. Leave.”

Her voice echoes but there are no more songbirds, a cacophony of a roaring bears and hissing snakes color her speech. One of the two remaining hooded figures falters, flinching back at the noise. Brenda leans forward, digging her sole between the pinned one’s shoulder blades.

“I. Said.  _ Leave. _ ”

All at once the two remaining figures charge. Brenda  _ howls _ , the air crackles with energy, and she reaches out again. The two figures are faster, but they underestimate her and that will be their downfall. She hasn’t fought in years, and she never technically finished her training but she remembers it. Remembers the sacred prayers and hopes beyond anything that She will answer them even if Brenda is not worthy. That if she is acting in defense of these children then Her Majesty will allow Brenda to act as a conduit for Her Blessings. 

All at once she swings out, catching one figure by the arm and the other by the shaft of their stave. The firbolg releases another mighty roar and slams the two figures together, she drops them and they crumple like unstrung puppets. 

For a moment there is calm, Brenda takes one breath then another and it feels as if she can sense the very motes of dust in the air, hear the gentle buzz of magic wafting around the room. One second her mind is at peace and then she feels it, a sickening abrasion against every one of her senses. 

Unholy.  _ Undead _ .

Brenda sprints, dives in front of the children--Plain blooms in her chest. It feels like her mind catches fire and when she howls there is no rush of energy or radiant light. Now there is only pain and a wretched feeling of failure. Her knees lock as she desperately attempts to stable herself and keep from pitching forwards. A soft black glow forms on her hands, she feels a warmth in her chest overwhelming the pain. Her vision blurs but not enough to blind her, she reaches out at the abomination and feels it’s ghostly form. Brenda grabs hold as tight as she can with both hands and  _ pulls  _ . 

Then the world fades to black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, remember when I said this was all fluff and there wouldn't be any hits in this fic?
> 
> I lied.


	10. The Raven Queen & The Grim Reaper

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Miss Good meets The Raven Queen and takes a walk with The Grim Reaper.

**_“Breandán Ó’Méabh of the Goodberry Grove.”_ **

Everything is dark, and Brenda’s eyes snap open--She hasn’t heard that name in--hasn’t heard it since she _left_ . Her heart is racing--where are the children? They’d just been behind her, had they escaped?! She must keep them _safe_. 

“Angus? Class?!” 

Brenda spins wildly, arms up as she grasps desperately for her focus but finds it missing, the beautiful oil slick feather kept close to her heart at all times vanished. 

 _ **“Fret not, young Breandán, you kept them safe.”**_ The voice booms, no centralized location to track it, instead it feels as if it’s both echoing endlessly while simultaneously being broadcasted directly into her brain. It’s dizzying, utterly disorientating, and Brenda feels a whimper in the back of her throat. She wants to slam her hands over her ears and cower but she can’t find her class. She remembers defending them, remembers telling Angus to lead them to safety and then searing pain--The smell of _rotting meat._

“Whe-Where are they? Do you have them?” She tries to stand tall but it’s difficult, she feels small and weak, like a baby stumbling on newborn hooves. There’s a bright light before her, the brightest she thinks she’s ever seen. Brenda squints but no form emerges from the light if anything something deep in her chest shudders dangerously the longer she looks at the light.

**_“We are alone here, my child. Together we await your fate, here at this precipice.”_ **

The voice reverberates yet as far as Brenda can see, beyond her there are no walls to echo off, only endless darkness. She shudders, “I-I don’t understand.” 

Her clothes aren’t the ones she remembers putting on this morning which is an entirely different manner of distressing that the firbolg is working very hard on compartmentalizing. The dress she’s wearing is nothing she owns, a plain white thing free flowing and missing any of the distinct patterns that Brenda prefers. She places the issue in a neat little box in the back of her brain, to reopen later when the danger has passed but there’s one thing she can’t just pack away to make room for greater priorities. Her sweater--It’s most certainly one of her sweaters, she stares at the dropped stitch on one sleeve. This is hers, she _made_ this yet what should be a soft cream is replaced by an ominous inky black. 

Her mind strays, just for a moment, to the black of her mother’s robes.

 _ **“I believe that you do, you are confused now because your soul is weary for the fate of your charges, but should you search your heart you know who I am, Breandán Ó’Méabh Child of The Goodberry Grove.”**_ This time, when it speaks the voice is--well, soft isn’t anywhere close to a way to describe the great thundering sound but it’s gentle. Like thunder rolling in the distance, and Brenda’s breath catches in her throat. No one should know those things, not even Missus Aurix who found her alone and frightened when she had run the night before her final rites. The night she had prayed for forgiveness and mercy to--

“The Raven Mother,” The epithet slips from her lips like a ghost or a prayer, “Have I passed on?”

_**“No, my child, but you are close.”** _

“But I saved them?”

**_“Yes, you saved them.”_ **

“Oh, thank the goddess.” The breath she’d been holding leaves her so suddenly, Brenda staggers. Before she can stumble a soft warmth catches her elbows and gently helps lower her into a sitting position. The light never moves any closer or farther but it’s sudden warmth is a comfort Brenda practically sinks into as she rests her head in her hands. 

 _**“And she thanks** _ **you** _**for watching over her grandson.”** _ The light-- _The Raven Mother’s light_ \-- pulses and an unearthly chuckle sounds, rattling Brenda to her very _bones_. Her head snaps up, a thought jolts through her brain. 

“Your-- _Angus_!” 

_**“Such a bright child, your mind was too big for your meadow.”** _

“Is he--I saw him before I fell, please tell me he didn’t do anything reckless!”

 ** _“He is safe with his class and his family. They are all waiting for you now,”_** As delicately as she had been lowered to the ground, Brenda feels herself lifted back up and sat carefully on her feet, _**“My son will take you back.”**_

Brenda blinks once and suddenly a man stands not so far away. Kravitz smiles as he holds one hand out, beckoning her further into the darkness, away from the light emanating from the matron. “I'm sorry we had to meet under such circumstances but I _am_ glad they weren’t worse.” 

For once Brenda doesn’t feel oversized and lummoxing in comparison. She’s not sure if she’s smaller or he’s larger in this space between planes, but it’s comforting. Kravitz tucks her arm gently under his own and leads her forward through the darkness. The walks peacefully for what might be hours or minutes, Brenda’s wandering mind hasn’t quite caught back up with her internal clock, if she even has one in this place.

The peace shatters as she comes to a realization.

“Wait, I-I have to go back I forgot to ask her--” Brenda cuts herself off before she can finish because even if the sinking understanding that she is so close to death is tenuous at best, a greater fear haunts her. 

Ever since she left the grove, left the safety of its meadow and the constant thrum of its holy energy. If she had stayed she would have belonged to the Matron, as her mother and grandmother do and all their mothers before them. A keeper of the living and a protector of the rotting, “Is--is she proud of me? I forgot--I didn't ask, I didn't _mean_ to forget--Grandmother said I’d failed her, that my head was all wrong and I wasn't worthy of my name.” 

“Listen, it's alright. Your soul is finding its way back to your body and you’re finally feeling the shock of a near-death experience. Here, breath with me.”

His breathing is so exaggerated Brenda’s overtaxed brain manages to spare a thought whether or not he has to or if this is purely for her sake. It's very nice either way. Kravitz places one arm around her shoulders. In this odd liminal space where her size is irrelevant, it's the first of such gestures she's felt in years. Tears spring forth before she can stop them and she's snuffling in vain against the oncoming flood of emotion. 

Kravitz continues, a balm against the rushing anxiety in her chest, “I don't presume to know her majesty’s thoughts on her subjects but I do know that she only deigns to personally meet with those she finds worthy and she only lends her power to those she’s _especially_ proud of. I think you’re going to make a wonderful paladin, Breandán.” 

Brenda opens her mouth to reply but only a sob finds its way out. She could never be a cleric of the Raven Queen as her mother and grandmother had been but a _paladin_ \--She knows there hasn’t been a paladin from her clan in _generations_ . To be honored like this, to be recognized by her goddess when so many in her clan had thought her a failure. The clan was right, Brenda now knows, she _is_ different but that isn’t a bad thing. It’s what makes her valuable to Her Majesty, makes her just as worthy as anyone else. 

She feels Kravitz take hold of one of her hands and give it a gentle squeeze and-- _Brenda wakes up._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We've almost done it, my friends. This is the second to last chapter, the next one is the epilogue! I'm super happy with how this fic has turned out overall and I'm so glad you've all decided to come along with me on this journey.


	11. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brenda is going to be okay.

Brenda feels hands over her chest as she comes too, the pain is still sharp but the burning is gone. Her wheezing breaths hitch into a deep cough and more hands move to support her head. It rests on something  _ warm _ which seems wrong somehow. She doesn’t remember hitting the ground but she knows the auditorium floor certainly isn’t this comfortable. 

“Hey, hey, hey, easy there, you took a big hit, sister.” Mister Highchurch’s voice drifts above her and Brenda cracks her eyes open. Surrounding her in a small ring are six of the Birds, her brow furrows as she wonders over the location of the seventh. However, the moment she tries to crane her neck pain shoots through her chest and she bleats like a child.

All at once arms are wrapped around her and she realizes that she’s leaning on a person--One Mister Burnsides, the only Bird large enough to actually lend any manner of support to her own imposing figure, Soothing voices fills her ears and hands--so many hands--are touching her. The hands on her chest glow as she hears the rumble of prayer, the hands that hold her in place soothe up and down her arms. It’s now she realizes that she’s shaking, almost uncontrollably, because Mister Burnsides helps steady her every time the tremors become too much. 

Another panicked keen leaves her throat, though this one is more of a whine than a yelp. Soft hands with pencil calluses begin to stroke her ears, like she truly is a child, but the sensation is somewhat settling. Grounding, Brenda decides as her eyes flutter back closed. 

She’s  _ very _ tired. 

“Oh, no no no, not this again, wakey-wakey, sweater-mistakey.” One more hand joins the rest, less gentle as she feels someone flick her directly in the nose. When she opens her eyes Mister Fromteevee stands above her more disheveled than she’s ever seen him, “We got you back  _ once _ but your eyes were all fantasy cataracts and apparently you went into  _ cardiac arrest _ so lose it with the sleeping beauty syndrome.” 

That would explain--well, it explains why she feels so terrible. It is, in fact, difficult to keep her eyes open but aware of the threat of Mister Fromteevee’s still extended hand she does her best to do so. They droop but never quite fall shut, she can’t quite focus on any one thing though, her attention fluttering too and fro across the room. 

They’re all still in the auditorium, she can’t see her children but Her Majesty said they were safe and Brenda trusts that. Between the nearly violent shaking fits Merle heals her twice more, each time her shudders lessening until she can breath easier. Mister Burnsides keeps her from hitting herself or anyone around her as she thrashes but once she still clips someone--Captain Davenport she thinks based on the high pitched yelp--and her apology tumbles out in Beast Speech instead of Common.

After what feels like hours, the pain and tremors lessen enough that Mister Burnsides helps her up into a sitting position that’s more self-supported. Now he sits beside her, instead of behind her, one arm slung around her shoulder in case she loses balance. It feels very nice. Safe, even. 

"Holy shit, Miss B, you TORE a lich in HALF and it was like, down the middle in half, the  _ hard _ way to pull people in half!" 

She lets Mister Burnsides running commentary wash over her, the rest of the birds linger around the room. She spots Mister and Missus Bluejeans looking over the--corpse?--remains of the lich of which the skeletal remnant of what she presumes was it’s physical form lay in two distinct pieces. Every few minutes one member of the couple or the other will sneak short glances in her direction. Missus Bluejeans grins widely and tosses her a wink when they meet eyes, Mister Bluejeans conversely grimaces and glances very quickly between her and the remains almost nervously.

It appears she has, in the end, achieved the feat of intimidating one of the Birds.

The next pair her eyes land on are Miss Lucretia and Captain Davenport, the two of them are with the three cultists. The two not being questioned are trapped within small, certainly too small to be comfortable, bubbles. She assumes they are Miss Lucretia’s work, while the ropework holding the unbubbled entity seems like the work of an experienced sailor.

Mister Highchurch is taking account of his remaining supplies from the auditorium’s emergency medkit, presumably, in case Brenda has another fit. However, the one completely sedentary individual in the room is Mister Fromteevee who stares at her from where he’s barely moved since snapping her on the nose like a naughty cat.

Finally, when Mister Burnsides pauses for a breath between tangents, Taako speaks.

“You saved Angus.”

Brenda smiles softly, she’s sure she looks like an utter wreck but she’s so proud. Proud of herself, proud of Angus for presumably keeping the rest of the class safe until his family arrived. Mister Burnsides had informed her that all the children are currently being looked over by the school’s physician while they await the militia’s arrival in order to take statements. If she hadn’t been in a condition too critical to move, they would have taken her there as well.

“I saved all of my children.” She’s still exhausted, but the pain has dulled to the point that the firbolg can nearly ignore it. She watches Mister Fromteevee with patient eyes. After several moments the elven man sighs and plops down on her other side. His hands move quickly, snaking up and up, because even sitting she’s quite a bit taller than him and Brenda feels a gentle tug on her hair. She only notices that her hair has fallen from it’s usual braid now as Mister Fromteevee collects pink strands from around her face and delicately finger combs out any tangles. 

“...Okay, you’re fine. You’re like, a decent woman and your sweaters wouldn’t be  _ The Worst _ if you paired them with more neutrals instead of those floral monstrosities. Don’t say Taako never did anything for you, that’s primo, top of the line fashion advice. You get that for saving My Boy.” 

Brenda laughs, loud and braying in the way she usually tries to avoid around humanoids. It startles both of her minders but Mister Burnsides at least is quick to joins in with his own booming laughter. When she settles, still a little giggly from the combined curl of pleasure from Mister Fromteevee’s approval, the simple fact that's she's alive, and The Raven Queen is proud of her--Brenda is downright giddy for someone who almost died.

She leans into Mister Burnsides, enjoying the feeling of Mister Fromteevee braiding her hair back into some kind of order. “Your husband is very nice, Mister Fromteevee. Can you thank him for walking me back?” 

Both men go completely still and Brenda isn’t entirely sure why until Taako practically chokes out the words, “How did you meet--Holy  _ fuck _ , Braebrae, that’s a _ lot _ to unpack right there, didn’t, uh, didn’t realize you actually beefed it for a hot second.  _ Fuck _ .” 

Brenda frowns, her arm drifting up instinctively to pat Mister Fromteevee’s hand, “It’s okay.” 

“Are you--Are you fucking mom-voicing me? Holy shit, you died and you’re just mom-voicing me like  _ I’m _ the one having a rough day?!” 

She pats his hand again, “But you _ are _ having a rough day.” 

Beside her, Mister Burnsides reaches around her to rest his own hand on top of hers, like a fantasy sports team hand-stack.

“She’s got you there, Taako.” 

“Shut up, Maggie,” Mister Fromteevee lets out a long huff before his hands wander back up, undoing the intricate braid he’d been working on and starting on an entirely different but no less elaborate hairstyle. Brenda leans against Mister Burnsides, letting her eyes droop but not quite close, “I’d tell you to shut up too but it would be like scolding a goddamn wet kitten and that scary scaley principal of yours will  _ eat _ me.” 

Brenda grins and finally just relaxes as she settles in a listens to the ambient noise of Mister Fromteevee and Mister Burnsides bantering back and forth. Everything is going to be  _ okay _ .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WE DID IT! Here's the end of this fic but not the end of Brenda! I have more plans for this general little world I've set up, I'll be doing some side stories coming soon so stay tuned for those. It will include some scenes I only alluded to in here, some scenes I couldn't fit in, and some more delicious Brenda Backstory for those interested in that!
> 
> Much love to MonsterCatMusicGirl, Jenadriel, and the folks on the taz writers discord who've encouraged me through this whole fic! I could not have done it without y'all!


End file.
